The Beast Boy
by Kyonkichi89
Summary: Draco Malfoy is hiding a terrible curse. Meanwhile, his father is hiding a dangerous secret. When it all becomes too much to handle, who will be there to help Draco? Will the truths ever become clear? Takes place after OtP and before HBP. Eventual slash.
1. Chapter 1

**The Beast Boy**

**Prologue**

"And please, just keep your mouth shut," Lucius ordered tightly of his son as they strode toward the end of the hallway.

Draco turned restlessly towards his father, whether to make a scathing remark in return or to reassure him he wasn't sure. However, when he saw the expression on Lucius's face, he bit his tongue. His father's jaw was clenched defiantly and he held his head high in arrogance, but Draco knew his father well enough to be able to detect the confusion and anxiety hidden deep within his eyes. Considering the situation, he decided it was best to follow his father's instruction for the time being.

They halted when they reached the stone door at the end of the hall and stood in silence as it swung inward. Wormtail ushered Lucius and Draco inside with a subservient bow and Draco surreptitiously took stock of their unfamiliar surroundings. The room under the remote castle seemed to be the only one in the place that was not in ruins. Still, the walls were rough-hewn stone, oozing moisture, and the single window was tiny and barred. The only piece of furniture in the room was a high-backed armchair facing the embers of a dying fire.

"Ah, Lucius, Draco, so good to see you." The high voice that emanated from the armchair's occupant was silky smooth and cold.

Draco instinctively put up his mental barriers. Between his father's painstaking instruction and his own devoted practice, the young Malfoy had become quite an adept Occlumens. The walls around his thoughts sprang up almost instantaneously whenever he found himself in a touchy situation such as this one. Draco had a feeling that the consequences would be less than pleasant if the Dark Lord caught wind of what he thought of him. Besides, the Slytherin always felt safer knowing that no one could read his thoughts or feelings. He supposed Voldemort could crush his defenses easily if he wanted to, but the Dark Lord had no reason to delve too deeply into his mind. As far as Old Snakeface knew, Draco was an avid Death Eater trainee who would never dream of thinking disloyal thoughts about his father's master. Besides, his attention seemed to be focused elsewhere at the moment.

"My Lord," Lucius was bowing respectfully before the chair and Draco snapped his attention back to the room and the unfolding scene. "To what do I owe this -" he paused, "honor?"

Voldemort noticed the pause and chuckled. The sound reminded the younger Malfoy of the rattling breath of a dememtor and he shivered. Lucius stiffened almost imperceptibly.

Still with his back to them, the Dark Lord rose to stand by the fire and replied, "If you're worried about another assignment so soon, Lucius, you needn't be. I invited you here tonight with a much more enjoyable pastime in mind." He turned to face the Malfoys, his gaunt face made even more repulsive by the small smile playing over his reptilian features. Walking to the window, he continued, "I invited you here for a night of simple stargazing." He looked pointedly at Draco with a sardonic smirk on his thin lips.

Lucius only looked confused, but Draco stared after Voldemort with dawning horror.

"Gentlemen, you have arrived just in time to witness the emergence of my favorite star, and on the first day of the month, no less! How very fortunate." With a flick of his wand, Voldemort sent a beam of acid green light to a spot above the horizon. "In a few moments, the sky will darken enough to make visible the North Star, or Polaris. It is a beautiful sight, I assure you, and many complex spells are centered around the North Star's appearing at the start of each month. Even muggles seem to sense its power and wish upon it, as it is usually the first star to appear in the sky each night." Voldemort laughed softly at the naivety of such an idea.

The elder Malfoy laughed obediently along, though only with great effort, for he had realized with a jolt where this was going. He had known that this exclusive invitation could only bode ill for himself, considering the fiasco at the ministry of a few months' previous. However, he hadn't seen how Draco could be involved until now. Although now that he did see what the Dark Lord was planning, he also knew that he was pwerless to do anything about it. Though he knew it was useless, Lucius hoped that Narcissa had already given Draco the antidote, that neither he nor his son would have to go through this. Meanwhile, the Dark Lord continued to speak, seemingly unaware of his follower's distress.

"In fact, I think there is a spell with which the Malfoy family is particularly familiar that has to do with Polaris." Voldemort's red eyes gleamed as he addressed the elder Malfoy. "Perhaps you know what I'm talking about, Lucius?"

He said nothing, but could not help glancing at his son.

"That's right," Voldemort said silkily. "I believe young Draco undergoes a peculiar -" he paused to sneer at the younger Malfoy, "transformation when Polaris appears on the first night of the month. Unless, of course, he drinks this." He drew a white hand out of his robes and held up a small bottle filled with swirling green liquid.

At the sight of the bottle, Draco's chest tightened and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He _needed_ that potion. It was just as Voldemort had said. Without it, he would indeed undergo a transformation, and 'peculiar' was hardly the correct word to describe it. _Try frightening, painful, and overwhelming to the point that I don't know who I am,_ Draco thought, desperately trying to keep his face free of emotion. He had to get the antidote. His mother had withheld it this week and Draco had not known why, but he had not asked her about it. The risk of angering his mother was too great and could result in not getting the antidote at all this month. Now he saw that she had been in on this plot all along.

The other part of him, the monster lurking inside him, was already plotting was for Draco to snatch the potion from Voldemort. His wand was close at hand, and if he could move to retrieve it without being noticed –

Draco's rational side angrily cut off this train of thought. _There is no way I can draw my wand without being noticed,_ he thought. _And besides, even if there was, I couldn't defeat Voldemort in a duel. He's one of the most powerful Dark wizards of all time._ At that moment, and for no reason at all, a face popped into Draco's head, interrupting his introspection. A face with bespectacled green eyes and topped with unruly black hair. Draco ground his teeth. _Again?!_ He mentally growled in frustration and wrenched his attention back to his father and Voldemort. There would be plenty of time to think about Potter when he and his father weren't being threatened with torture. However, after this split-second vision, Draco incongruously found himself feeling a little less frantic.

"Please, my Lord," Lucius was saying softly. "You don't have to -"

"Oh, but I think I do. What would my other followers think if I let you go unpunished?" A hint of threat had crept into the Dark Lord's voice. "Obtaining that prophecy was key, and yet you neglected to retrieve it. You failed me, Lucius."

"But my son! He has nothing to do with this!" Lucius insisted, glancing anxiously out at the sky.

Draco looked out, too, and calculated with a sense of dread that Polaris was mere moments from appearing in the darkening sky. He felt the beast begin to buck inside him, scrabbling to get out, and grit his teeth. If he could only suppress it a little longer, maybe he could…He didn't know what he could do. He had no escape plan, no way to save himself, nothing. So as the quiet despair filled him, Draco threw all of his hope into his father's hands as he had done so many times in the past and waited for him to take care of the situation. However, this time – and for the first time – Draco was still afraid, even with his father in charge. This time, his father was afraid, too. Beads of cold sweat formed on Draco's forehead as he blocked out everything and tried desperately to hold onto who he was for a few moments longer.

"Your son has everything to do with this," Voldemort was saying, having dropped all attempts at pleasantness. "Much as you try to hide it, I happen to know that young Draco is the only thing you care about." His voice rose to a snarl. "Perhaps watching him suffer will teach you that failure is unacceptable!"

Lucius appeared to be about to protest the validity of this statement, but stopped when he heard Draco's sharp intake of breath. He whirled to see his son clutching his chest with a grimace. Again, Lucius glanced out the window and saw Polaris glinting bright and cold in the evening sky. The elder Malfoy took and involuntary step towards the boy as Draco grit his teeth against the pain, pain that would only get worse. Voldemort noticed the movement and chuckled maliciously. Draco opened his eyes in time to see his father's face close completely in response to the sound. As he doubled over, fire spreading outward from his chest, his father turned away.

"It doesn't matter."

Draco's anguish was complete. There was no way his father could keep the Change from taking over without angering Voldemort and putting them both in even more danger. He realized he had hoped and assumed that his father had come to the same conclusions about Voldemort - that he was a deadly juggernaut that cared only about himself. That not only was it unsafe to support him any longer, it was also unprofitable. But if he felt the same way, then why were they still here? Why had his father turned his back on Draco, his only son? A small part of him dared to hope that it was all part of some greater plan or purpose, that his father had not abandoned him. But this part was so small and its claim so improbable that Draco tucked it into a far corner of himself and left it there to rot.

Showing indifference was his and Draco's only hope. Lucius tried to convince himself of this as he watched Draco's face crumple with misery. Voldemort knew he cared about his to at least some extent, but perhaps if he kept his defenses up long enough, the Dark Lord would tire of the torture sooner rather than later. In the meantime, the lie pained Lucius. For his statement was indeed a lie. Ever since Narcissa had proven herself irreversibly loyal to the Dark Lord, Draco was the only person Lucius cared for. It was for the hope of giving his son a brighter future - a future rid of maniacle Dark wizards - that he continued to feign allegiance to Voldemort.

What pained Lucius more than his lie, however, was watching Draco suffer. He kept his face carefully impassive as his son curled up on the cold flagstones. But behind the mask, Lucius was aching to help his son. Draco bit his lip hard enough to draw blood in an effort to keep from crying out. The elder Malfoy stood rigid, feeling as if he, like his son, was being physically hurt. He watched helplessly as pain invaded Draco's body, scales his skin, and the alien presence his mind until the boy was unrecognizable, even to his own father.

The Dark Lord looked on and laughed coldly. Lucius didn't know how long he could keep this up.

Within the last shred of consciousness that was his own, Draco again saw the face of Harry Potter. Without quite knowing why, he summoned his will and opened one eye – now yellow with a slitted pupil - just wide enough to peer out the window. Draco caught sight of what he was looking for and concentrated on the star Polaris, the bane of his existence. _I wish…_he thought, but lost his concentration as the beast relentlessly fought for complete control. He focused harder on Potter's eyes, glared at the star and tried again. _If you were here…_But he was rapidly slipping away, and so these fragmented, half-formed thoughts were the last Draco Malfoy had before the beast took over entirely.

* * *

"Come in," The occupant of the office was barely given time to finish the two words before a furious Lucius Malfoy stormed through the door. 

"Dumbledore, I have had it with this!"

Dumbledore raised a silver eyebrow and gazed at him impassively as Lucius paced in front of the desk.

"I've put up with the whole damn business – deceiving him, which would cost me my life if he found out, enduring schemes that border on lunacy every time, following orders like a dog – all of it! It's gone on for far, far too long. Especially now that he's used my own son against me and injured him in the process! This charade must end!"

Dumbledore let him rant with calm composure. After all, Lucius's was certainly not the first tantrum he had witnessed in this office, nor would it be the last. Only when the younger man stopped raging and glared expectantly at him did he reply, saying merely, "Please, sit."

Lucius restrained himself from grinding his teeth as he considered continuing his speech until the old codger got it into his head that he was serious about ending this once and for all. However, upon noticing that Dumbledore was pointedly twirling his wand between his fingers, Lucius decided that this was not the best idea. He was fairly sure Dumbledore was only teasing – he did things like that – but one could never be too sure, so Lucius sat in the proffered chair with silent exasperation.

"There." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at Lucius in that infuriating way they had. "Now, Lucius. Remind me again why you decided to accept this position when I offered it to you."

This time, Lucius actually did grind his teeth. "I could see no further gain for the Malfoy family in supporting He Who Must Not Be Named."

Dumbledore scrutinized Lucius's gray eyes and inquired, "Any additional reasons?"

"His tactics were getting…out of hand. Uncalled-for," Lucius said grudgingly. He hated admitting that he cared about anything besides himself and his family's reputation, mostly because it went against his image. But it was true. Voldemort had become overly zealous and would do absolutely anything to achieve his goal. Lucius no longer wanted any part of it.

"Your wife does not seem to agree," Dumbledore said thoughtfully.

"I'm beginning to think she's almost as deranged as he is," Lucius said with a grimace. "The part she played in tonight's little episode was certainly considerable. People like them are threats to life as we know it and give pureblood families like my own a bad name."

"Aha! So, when you accepted the position as spy for the Order of the Phoenix, it was to protect life as we know it."

Lucius scowled and grumbled, "And my reputation,", but he knew it was useless. Dumbledore had what he was after.

"A noble cause, protecting life as we know it. Important, too, I daresay. Important enough to endure a while longer, I think."

It was not a question, nor a request, but Lucius chose to respond as if it had been. He leaned forward in his chair and snarled, "No! Now that he's used Draco like this, I have no desire to endure it any longer, no matter what the cause! The Dark Lord could use my own son against me again and I don't know how long I could go on if he does. Until we find the counter-curse, Draco is a liability, to say nothing of the fact that every time he goes through the Change, it hurts him, too! If I could sever all ties with He Who Must Not Be Named, we could work on finding the counter-curse and-"

Dumbledore's eyes lost some of their softness. "And what, Lucius? You know what Voldemort does to deserters. You'd be no use to anyone dead; not the Order, not your son."

Lucius sat back with a small "oof" sound as if he had been punched in the stomach. The blood drained from his already pale face at this thought. Dumbledore had him. He still needed the Order's protection, but in his case, that protection came with a price. After all, he had been a known Death Eater until fairly recently and no one trusted him completely yet. Frankly, he couldn't blame them. Lucius looked away from Dumbledore's piercing blue stare in defeat.

"As for your son, I don't think you will have cause to worry for much longer," Dumbledore continued, his voice gentler than before. "We shall see how the first few weeks eventuate, but I have a feeling that someone will be coming to young Draco's aid. Someone capable who is in a less precarious situation than you and has the time and…energy to find his counter-curse."

"What?" demanded Lucius, startled. "Who?"

Dumbledore's eyes regained their twinkle. "We'll see, won't we?"


	2. Chapter 2

Many thanks to those who reviewed! I will start replying to all reviews I get this chapter. Your feedback is always appreciated. So without further ado...

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"How are you feeling, Draco?" Pansy Parkinson asked with concern. Here it was the second week of school and her friend was still looking drawn and pale.

Draco shrugged and poked at his breakfast unenthusiastically. Between reliving his nightmarish transformation of several weeks ago and worrying about his father in Azkaban, Draco had had yet another sleepless night. Pansy sighed and looked to Blaise for help.

"Hey, Malfoy, check out the Ravenclaw Quiddich team. Looks like they're already talking strategy for the first match," scoffed Blaise Zabini with disdain. "Too bad Slytherin's gonna beat their arses, eh?"

When Draco's only response was to shrug again, Pansy and Blaise exchanged a worried look. Ever since the incident over the summer, Draco had been acting disinterested and detached – even around his two friends. He hadn't told them much, but they knew it had something to do with his curse. Though they were the only two people in the school who knew Draco's secret, Blaise and Pansy had only vague ideas when it came to the details. The details about what had happened the last week of summer involving Draco's curse were even more vague. And now to top it all off, Draco's father was in Azkaban.

As a result, Draco moped around forlornly these days. Gone was the Draco Blaise and Pansy knew; the sly plots and superior grins. Only one thing could catch his interest anymore and that thing was –

"Speak of the devil," Blaise muttered, catching sight of the three people who had just entered the Great Hall. Raising his voice in hopes of finally breaking through Draco's cloud of melancholy, he called, "Hey, Malfoy!"

Pansy caught sight of where he was looking and sang, "Oh, look who it is, Draco!"

"What is it, Parkinson?" Draco growled. But when he noticed who they were looking at, his grey eyes narrowed.

"Well, look who it is," he sneered, his usual demeanor back in full force. "The Boy Who Wouldn't Do Us the Favor of Dying and his golden retrievers."

Pansy gave Blaise a brief congratulatory grin and then put her own smirk in place. "Look at him strut to his seat. The boy swaggers so much you'd think he was on the runway. Not that he's got much to show off…" She let this thought dangle and looked pointedly at Draco. To her disappointment, he either didn't notice her bait or intentionally didn't take it.

"If he's all we've got against You-Know-Who, the honorable citizens of the wizarding world haven't got a prayer," Blaise sighed in mock despair.

"What really gets me is the way the Mudblood and the Weasel follow him around," Draco said disparagingly. Of all the things that irked him about Potter, the one thing that bothered Draco the most had little to do with Potter himself. "It's like they're all joined at the hip or something! I swear, are they ever _not_ with him?"

"Probably not," Pansy said. "It certainly doesn't seem like it."

Blaise grinned wickedly at Draco and said, "Yeah, they probably even sleep with Potter. I bet that four-poster gets pretty cozy."

Draco tried to merely look sickened at this thought, but both Blaise and Pansy caught the frigid glare he sent towards Harry's two friends. "Please, Zabini, I'm _eating_," he said in disgust.

"Not since Potter walked in, you aren't," Blaise pointed out with a smirk. "You've barely taken your eyes off him. You've been looking over there at least once a minutes."

"I have not!" protested Draco, but he proved Blaise's point by glancing at the Gryffindor table yet again. He realized what he was doing a split second after he did it and cursed himself in frustration. However, sneaking looks at Potter while they were in the same room seemed to be quickly becoming a subconscious reflex.

It was Pansy's turn to grin. She added her own jibe, saying, "I bet you're just jealous it's not _you_ sleeping in Potter's four-poster."

Draco tried to keep his flaring temper in check as he hurriedly thought up a response that didn't have 'Ah, shit, you got me,' written all over it. He _hated_ it when people saw through him. Though he really shouldn't have been surprised. It was only a matter of time before his two closest friends found out he was practically obsessed with Harry Potter. Besides, now that he thought about it, they'd been baiting him since almost the first day. But that didn't mean he was going to give in so easily. _Malfoys do not give in,_ he thought to himself as he made his retort.

"Firstly," he said, "you can tell just by looking that Granger and the Weasel are both sex-deprived virgins. Come to think of it, Potter has that look as well." Draco couldn't help but smile happily at this thought. "So, there are no worries there. And secondly, why in hell would I want to sleep with Potter?"

That was the wrong response, as both Pansy and Blaise were armed with answers to that very question.

"Oh, come on, Draco," Pansy cajoled. "Everyone knows you swing both ways. I mean last year you went out with_ Blaise_, for Lord's sake, and that wasn't exactly a secret!"

Blaise grinned and added, "Face it, Malfoy, Harry Potter is the only thing you'll talk about anymore. Take this morning. You were all dismal before he came in, but the second you knew Potter was here, bam! You were your old self again."

Draco was taken aback. No wonder they were suspicious! He hadn't realized he was being so pitifully obvious. He would have to work on that. _No more sulking,_ he told himself firmly, _Malfoy's never sulk for unduly long periods of time. _And as an afterthought, he added,_ And no obvious obsessing over Harry Potter!_

"Besides," Blaise was continuing, "He's not that bad looking. Sure, he has rotten taste, but he plays Quiddich, so he's gotta have some muscle _somewhere_. And the bed-head look is kind of cute." He craned his neck to get a better look at the Gryffindor table. "I wonder what he'd look like without glasses."

Draco was about to snarl, "Back off!" or something equally incriminating, but was luckily distracted by the arrival of the morning mail. He changed tack just in time and ended his friends' needling by saying, "Mail's here! Ah, good, Mother sent my package."

Pansy rolled her eyes at Blaise in exasperation. She was determined to get a confession out of Draco eventually, but she supposed it could wait. For now, she was just glad they had the old Malfoy back at last.

-------

Harry was on edge. It was the second week of school already and Draco Malfoy hadn't insulted or antagonized him in any way. Not once! He glanced at the Slytherin table, half expecting Malfoy to leap up, eyes blazing, and cause a scene right there in the Great Hall. However, Harry's arch-rival thwarted his expectations once again. Malfoy seemed to be in the middle of a heated discussion with his two friends, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Harry's eyes narrowed. Why _anyone_ would willingly hang out with Parkinson was beyond him.

Looking closer, Harry noticed how exhausted Malfoy seemed. He had the look of someone who hadn't slept well in days – pale face (well, paler than normal, anyway), dark circles, and all. And was that-? Harry was no expert, but he was fairly sure several strands of Malfoy's hair had not been styled into place and were hanging in the Slytherin's eyes. Harry wondered what could have possibly caused the Slytherin Slimeball to gel his hair imperfectly.

As if picking up on Harry's train of thought, Lavender Brown elbowed Parvati Patil and stage-whispered, "So, have you heard about Draco Malfoy's father?"

"Hasn't everyone?" replied Parvati.

Apparently, everyone hadn't heard, because Harry certainly hadn't. Though he had been at the Dursleys' again for most of the summer, so maybe everyone else _had_ heard. Harry leaned forward slightly so he could hear what Lavender said next.

"I suppose you're right," she said. "You'd have to be living in a hole to miss the fact that such a famous ministry benefactor and ex-Death Eater was captured and put in Azkaban." Yes,

Harry would certainly describe the Dursleys' as a hole. And he'd stopped reading The Daily Prophet when it continued to turn a blind eye to Voldemort's return. He was beginning to think that had been a mistake. Lucius Malfoy's arrest was definitely something he would have wanted to read about and he kicked himself for abandoning The Prophet entirely. Harry supposed he would have to settle for eavesdropping on Lavender and Parvati for the rest of the story now and grill Ron and Hermione for the details later.

"Why was he arrested?" asked Parvati. "I don't know much about the details."

"Well, the Ministry kept it all very quiet, of course, but I heard he broke into the Ministry of Magic itself with a bunch of fellow ex-Death Eaters and tried to steal something." Lavender was whispering conspiratorially, delighting in having someone to share the latest gossip with.

Harry blinked in surprise. How had he missed Lucius Malfoy's arrest if it had happened right after the affair at the ministry? However, he realized that this news really shouldn't shock him. After all, Malfoy had failed Voldemort when he couldn't get the prophecy. His protection from Voldemort had probably been seriously compromised which was why he was in Azkaban. In truth, Harry was surprised that he'd gotten off so lightly.

"I wonder what Draco Malfoy has to say about all of this," said Parvati. "I'm surprised he even came to school this year."

"The Malfoys still have money and weight they can throw around," Lavendar pointed out. "But I'll bet Malfoy junior isn't so full of himself this year now that his illustrious father is in jail." On the word 'illustrious', Lavender made a sarcastic little bow to the Slytherin table.

Parvati snickered. "Know what else I've heard about Draco, the son of the illustrious Lucius Malfoy?" Harry had to strain the next part because Parvati dropped her voice to a gleeful whisper. "I've heard he's gay!"

Ron spit his pumpkin juice across the table and into Neville's face. He'd obviously been listening in as well. "Huh?" Neville spluttered and blinked in confusion.

"Sorry!" Ron coughed, but his attention had already returned to Parvati and Lavender, who were sitting a few feet down the table from him. They hadn't noticed his little explosion and were continuing to discuss Draco Malfoy's sexuality.

"I've heard that, too!" Lavender exclaimed. "Apparently, he went out with Blaise Zabini for part of last year."

Ron hastily put his goblet of pumpkin juice safely back on the table in case the two girls had any other shocking information to divulge.

"With Malfoy's pretty-boy attitude and style, it doesn't surprise me," Parvati giggled. "What a fairy."

"They shouldn't be pointing out what they see as other people's faults," Hermione scoffed. "Look at their own! What gossips."

"But Hermione, it all makes sense!" Ron protested. "They've got a point. His hair is always perfectly gelled, he wears expensive designer brands and I've heard he has his ear pierced! The evidence is rock-solid. Malfoy's a poof!"

Hermione glared at him. "Listen to yourself! You're just as immature as Parvati and Lavender! And so what if he is gay? That's no reason to spread rumors about someone."

Ron looked at her shrewdly. "Hermione, _you're_ not gay, are you?"

"No!" she exclaimed. Ron looked relieved until she continued, "But if I were, I know I wouldn't want people talking behind my back. What, does someone's being gay automatically make them a bad person or something?" She demanded "Being gay shouldn't be a reason to be rude to people!"

Up until now, Harry had still been getting over his initial shock at the thought that Malfoy could be gay. But after Hermione's last remark, he had to say something. "Hermione, this is Malfoy we're talking about. He was _already_ a bad person!"

"I realize we're talking about Malfoy," Hermione said, calming down slightly. "But doesn't he seem different to you this year? He hasn't picked a fight with you once!"

"Yeah, I did notice that, actually," Harry said thoughtfully. He was glad he wasn't the only one who'd discerned this.

"Probably just biding his time, the git," Ron said, glaring over at the Slytherin table.

"People _do_ change, Ron." Hermione pointed out. "Besides, it's got to be awful for him with his father in Azkaban and all. My guess is that he's got a lot on his mind and doesn't have time to be petty. If we're lucky, he'll have grown up a lot this summer."

"Yeah, maybe so," Harry said. He was amazed that Hermione had suddenly decided to see all this good in Draco Malfoy. But then, Hermione was a pretty amazing person. Ron, however, not so much. At least not in the compassion department.

"Yeah, and maybe not," he sniffed dubiously. The arrival of the daily mail distracted him briefly, but his attention was soon drawn to the Slytherin table – and one occupant in particular – yet again. "Well, rumors aside," he scoffed, "There's no denying that Malfoy's a spoiled rich prat. Look, he's got _another_ package! His mother must send one to him every month at least. And they're not small, either."

Harry turned to look at the Slytherin table and saw that Malfoy did indeed have another package and letter from home. He was looking smug about something as he calmly set the package aside. Harry watched as Malfoy read the address on the envelope and then opened it and read the letter inside. Harry was just about to turn back to his breakfast when he saw Malfoy's eyes widen in surprise. The Slytherin scanned the letter again. And then a third time. Slowly, the corners of his mouth turned upward. Harry blinked. Malfoy was smiling! He wasn't smirking and he wasn't sneering. Draco Malfoy was smiling an actual smile of happiness!

Harry supposed that Malfoy must smile like everyone else, just not in front of him. He was amazed to see how much a simple movement could change the blond's face. Malfoy's face was kind of…nice, albeit in a narrow, cunning sort of way. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. Not only had Malfoy smiled, Harry thought he looked nice when he did it. He liked it when Malfoy smiled!

The bewildered Gryffindor was forced to stow this realization in the back of his mind for further study when Hermione waved her hand in front of his face. "Hellooo, Harry? What are you staring at?"

Ron glanced in the direction Harry had been looking and sniffed in dismissal. "We know he's a rich prat, Harry, but I vote we ignore him for now. He's not worth it."

"That's the spirit, Ron!" said Hermione happily. "I really do think Malfoy is different this year."

Ron gave Hermione a strange look and swept his gaze up and down the length of her robes. "Where is it?" he asked.

"Where's what?"

"The badge."

"What badge?" Hermione asked, confused.

"The S.E.G.O.O. badge, of course!"

"Ronald, what on earth are you talking about?"

"S.E.G.O.O.: Support Everyone, Gay Or Otherwise!"

Hermione glared daggers at him and scooped up her things. "Well, I've got to be going!" she said breezily, taking pains to address everyone at the table but Ron. It was Harry's turn to snort into his pumpkin juice.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Beast Boy**

**Chapter 2**

Harry careened into the classroom and launched himself into the empty seat beside Ron just as Snape finished dictating the lesson plan to the blackboard. "Yet another close call, Potter," the potions master drawled. "I'm beginning to think that the wizarding world hasn't got much of a chance if you are to be its savior."

"Did I not just say that at breakfast?" Blaise Zabini whispered loudly. The Slytherins snickered.

Snape silenced them with a raised hand and began. "For this next lesson, you will not need your books."

Harry shoved his textbook into his bag with more force than was necessary and glowered at Snape, who continued calmly, "However, this does not mean you will have any less work. On the contrary, I fully expect you to take detailed notes in class to compensate for the lack of textbook instruction"

He paused to glare meaningfully in Harry and Ron's direction. Ron grudgingly took out parchment and a quill while Harry watched in mild shock as Hermione rummaged frantically in her bag and withdrew three bottles of color-changing ink. Harry glanced at the blackboard, but the day's potion ingredients were simply listed under 'antidote'. He knew that Potent Potions could not possibly contain every potion ever brewed, but Snape had never deviated from the book before. Harry wondered what was so special about this particular antidote. He took out his own parchment and quill, resolving to at least attempt to pay attention lest his Potions grade suffer horrendously.

Harry's attention was drawn to the front of the classroom by Snape's impatient bark. "Mister Longbottom, are you _quite _sure you've forgotten to bring even a single quill to class?"

Neville flushed, turned out the last of his pockets and stammered a miserable, "Yes, sir."

"Five points from Gryffindor for inability to be prepared."

Harry's hands clenched into fists. Crabbe and Goyle obviously had neither quill nor parchment between them and Snape was turning them a blind eye. He was about to point this out to Snape in less than respectful tones when Ron kicked him under the table. Having gained Harry's attention, he pointed urgently to Hermione who was shooting Harry warning looks and making slashing motions across her throat. Harry gave her a shrug that said, "You're right, of course," and attempted to concentrate on Snape's lecture.

"Some of you have probably been wondering what it is you will be learning that is not in the textbook." He smirked in Hermione's direction as if curiosity were a crime. "Well, don't strain your minds any further because I am about to explain. This semester, we will be studying antidotes in depth, particularly those used to cure wounds inflicted by magical creatures."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed a platinum blond head on the Slytherin side of the room snap up. Curiosity piqued, Harry attempted to watch Malfoy inconspicuously as Snape continued.

"Some of these potions are included in your textbook, but it is the opinion of the headmaster that going beyond these fairly simple potions is imperative. He reasons that with the Dark Lord gaining power and influence, it is important to be prepared against all manner of dark magical creatures. I do not have the headmaster's level of confidence in your abilities," Snape sneered, "but he seems to think that you are ready to brew the more advanced potions that deal with more powerful monsters." Snape's eyes flickered to Malfoy and he said, "Serpent flies, for example."

The Slytherin's reaction was instantaneous. It was obvious that he was attempting to keep his emotions in check, but Harry was still able to detect the way Malfoy's knuckles whitened as he clutched the edge of the table. The silver eyes widened with – what? Surprise? Excitement? Fear? Harry wondered what could have possibly caused the Slytherin to respond so strongly to the mere mention of one potion. Harry hadn't even heard of a serpent fly. He knew that Malfoy was quite good at this subject, but he had never seen the Slytherin get so worked up about it before.

"Mister Potter." Harry jerked his eyes back to the front of the room, but not before noticing that Malfoy, too, had been startled from his thoughts. The Slytherin bastard was smirking at him.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry replied, attempting to keep the sarcasm to a minimum.

"Would you care to remind the class how I will be assigning partners? After that, you may reiterate which potion they are to brew first." Snape's thin lips curved with triumph; he was well aware that Harry had not been listening.

Harry gave the potions master a wide-eyed look and said innocently, "I got the feeling you were just about to do that yourself, sir."

Snape grimaced as if he'd smelled something disgusting. "Five points from Gryffindor for inattentiveness."

Harry huffed in annoyance, but decided not to push his luck as the professor repeated what he had apparently just said. At least he hadn't been given a detention. "As I was saying," Snape said, his impatient glare daring anyone else to lapse into daydreams, "we will be starting with an antidote for pixie bites, which is a fairly simple cure. As the semester progresses, the antidotes you concoct will become more complex, culminating with a potion to slow the effects of werewolf bites." Snape looked down his sallow nose at the class. "If any of you are able to successfully complete this final potion, I shall be shocked," he said with scorn. "It will require the utmost cooperation between the two partners.

Which brings me to my next point," Snape droned on. "The headmaster wishes that you keep the same partner for the entire semester and that the members of the pair be from different houses.

The class was torn between various reactions. Some groaned loudly, while others – including Neville – stared at the professor with open-mouthed horror. Ron let his head fall to the table with an echoing thump. Hermione, however, gazed at the Slytherin side of the room with a glint of determination in her eyes. Harry thought gloomily that 'the Slytherin side of the room' was a distinction that would soon have no meaning. The thought of working with any Slytherin for that length of time was enough to make him consider throwing himself out the window of the astronomy tower. Even discovering the reason behind Malfoy's surprising reaction would not be worth the torture.

Harry's eyes seemed to drift to the other side of the room of their own accord. Unfortunately, the object of his glance shoes that moment to look up and Malfoy met Harry's gaze dead on. Puzzled emerald met startled silver for just a moment before both boys remembered themselves. Harry glared at Malfoy who gave his trademark smirk in return, rolling his eyes and turning away.

When Harry brought his focus back to the goings on of his least favorite class, Snape was reading the list of partners from a sheet of parchment. Most of the class had already been paired up, but Harry wasn't sure which Slytherins already had partners. He attributed his lack of knowledge to having let his mind wander yet again. He hoped fervently that Crabbe and Goyle had already been taken.

"Zabini and Thomas," Snape barked. Harry grinned. The appraising look Zabini had given Dean had caused Seamus's lips to tighten with anger.

"Bulstrode and Weasley." Ron took one look at the hulking Slytherin girl and turned a delicate shade of green.

"Parkinson and Granger." The girls looked at each other with grim determination and nodded.

"Malfoy," Snape gave the Slytherin an unfathomable look before directing his glare to the other side of the classroom, "and Potter."

-----------

Draco stared at Professor Snape in disbelief. Was his head of house _trying_ to put him in a living hell? He had a slight obsession with Potter, it was true, but that certainly did not mean that he could work with the irritating Gryffindor for an entire semester. Everyone knew that he copied Granger's notes for potions class. And – Draco hardly needed to mention it, especially not to himself – Potter hated him!

Draco was still mid-sulk (a surreptitious sulk, mind. No need to draw unnecessary attention to himself) when Pansy passed him a note. The hearts surrounding his name told him that it was from Blaise. Draco rolled his eyes.

_Hey, good-looking. Kudos on your partner! I can picture it now: cozy study sessions in the library. Or broom closets. Or the Slytherin dormitories…_

Draco glowered. Just because he had been thinking along the same lines himself did not mean that he was willing to admit it. He replied with feigned confusion, choosing to ignore the dormitory comment entirely.

_Why on earth would I study in a broom closet? You know how I detest dust. Anyway, I plan to spend as little time with Potter as possible._

It was Blaise's turn to roll his eyes. He gave Draco a scathing look that said "Bullshit" and wrote back.

_Come off it, Malfoy. You know you're secretly ecstatic about all that potential alone time with Wonder Boy. I'm not too upset with my partner, either. That Thomas kid has a cute arse._

Draco snorted. Thomas was too meek to be his type. Unlike a certain hot-tempered brunet he happened to know…Thankfully, his train of thought was interrupted as another note was pressed into his hand, this time from Pansy.

_Alright, lover-boy, this is your chance. Try not to make a mess of it, will you?_

The blond just glared at her. He realized that there was really no point in denying it any longer. Parkinson and Zabini would hold on to their little notion no matter what he said. What incensed him was the fact that their assumptions were completely correct. Malfoys hate being seen through and Draco was certainly no exception.

But they were learning to brew antidotes! And not just any antidotes, either. The professor had said that they might learn to counter the effects of serpent fly bites. The implications of this were huge. Draco wouldn't have to rely on his mother for the potion anymore. He felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest and he could breathe properly for the first time in his life. It would be wonderful to be self-reliant at last.

Draco's happy daydreams were interrupted by the arrival of none other than Harry Potter.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. He then kicked himself for sounding so petulant, not to mention for asking such a redundant question. They were partners and would be for the rest of the year. Potter obviously had to show up at his desk sometime.

Potter looked as though he were considering a scathing reply, but seemed to change his mind. "There's no lecture for the first potion, since it's relatively simple. Snape told us to meet with our partners and get started." It turned out he couldn't resist adding a snide comment, because he said, "Maybe you'd know that if you hadn't been passing notes all through class like a first year."

Draco ground his teeth with barely suppressed ire. It was going to be a long year.

-----------

Albus Dumbledore looked up from his desk in response to the knocking on his office door. If it wasn't one thing, it was bound to be another. The headmaster sighed and spelled the door open with a flick of his wand.

Severus Snape swooped into the room and nodded curtly at Dumbledore, his mouth set in a thin line. "Ah, Severus," said Dumbledore placidly. "Please, take a seat."

"I'd rather stand," the Slytherin Head of House said. Dumbledore shrugged. "With all due respect, headmaster, do you really think this is wise?" Dumbledore shook his head, bemused. He had thought Slytherins were supposed to be sly and subtle. Lately, however, two of their number had proved themselves to be quite the opposite on occasion.

"If you mean my insisting upon Draco being partnered with Harry Potter for the entire semester, yes. I think that Harry will be able to help him."

"I was referring to a different matter, although I have several concerns regarding that point as well."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and gazed over them at the man across from him. "Well, by all means, Severus, tell me which point _is_ bothering you."

"The point that bothers me, headmaster, is the fact that Draco has not yet been told the truth about his…affliction." Snape's brow was furrowed, his expression dark. The Head of Slytherin professed to only favor the young Malfoy because of his family's high standing, but Dumbledore knew better. He suspected that Severus had real affection for the boy somewhere underneath his stony exterior. Which meant that Dumbledore would have to tread lightly as he discussed the matter of Draco's curse with the professor.

"I think it would be best," said Dumbledore carefully, "if Draco were to find out the truth for himself."

Severus began to pace in agitation. "But dangling this false hope in front of him could destroy him. I know what his mother told him and planned my lesson accordingly, as you instructed me to do. So far as Draco knows, the solution is within his grasp. Who knows how he will react when he discovers that the serpent fly antidote is not the potion he needs? He is still only a boy, after all."

"I think you underestimate him, Severus," said Dumbledore. "Draco is strong like his father and more mature than you give him credit for. I would not push him if I thought that the pressure would be too much for him. Besides, I think he will handle the truth better if he finds it himself, without it being handed to him. He _is_ a Malfoy."

Snape scoffed. "I don't see how that has anything to do with it."

"It has everything to do with it," countered Dumbledore. "If I am an accurate judge of Draco's personality – a personality that his father shares, I think – the sense of accomplishment he will gain from discovering the truth about his imprecation will be enough to encourage him to find the cure. I think that goal will overshadow any sense of defeat."

"You _think_," Snape repeated, lip curling. "This all seems highly conjectural. He would have a much better chance if you, I, or even his father were to help him."

As the tone of condescension crept into Snape's voice, Dumbledore's eyes hardened. "You know very well that none of us has the time or means to go to great lengths to help Draco currently. I have spoken to Lucius Malfoy and he agrees to my course of action."

Severus's sneer became even more derisive. "Come now, headmaster, it is a well known fact that Lucius cares little for his son's well-being."

"You know that's not true, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. Snape finally stopped his pacing to look at the headmaster. "He cares for Draco just as much as you do."

The potions master blinked, seeming to consider this. Dumbledore understood the man's concern, but he did not want Severus interfering. Draco simply had to find the answers without their help. It was the only logical answer.

"Besides," he continued. "If all goes well – and I think it will – Draco will have plenty of people to help him in the ways we cannot. Your job and mine is to offer support and occasional nudges in the right direction, nothing more."

Snape's face lost its thoughtful appearance as he reverted back to scoffing once more. "You honestly think that Potter will willingly help him? They hate each other!"

Dumbledore chortled. "That, Severus, is where you are badly mistaken."


End file.
